A Strong Wind
by lorilee66
Summary: A serious accident tests the family.
1. Chapter 1

Adversity is like a strong wind. It tears away from us all but the things that cannot be torn, so that we see ourselves as we really are. ~Arthur Golden, _Memoirs __of__ a__ Geisha_

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Jarrod inwardly groaned when he looked at the time. It was well past 10 o'clock and he had to be up to catch the early train to Sacramento in the morning. Maybe he could catch up on his sleep in the berth in his car, he thought as he buckled on his gunbelt and retrieved his hat. But he really didn't think that would happen. He knew he'd be running the details of his testimony over in his mind the whole way there and resigned himself to trying to call it an early night after he met with the state Attorney General tomorrow afternoon.

Jarrod locked up his office and made his way across the darkened street to the livery. The lamp was burning inside as he entered and the grizzled old hound that Jeb kept to watch over the place just whined a greeting when he recognized the intruder. Jarrod gave the dog a pat on the head before going to back Jingo out of his stall. He easily retrieved his gear and saddled the sorrel, stowed his case in the saddlebag and led Jingo outside before mounting.

As they headed for home, Jarrod's mind again replayed the details over in his head. He'd been working on a case, another instance of big business trying to strongarm a small rancher off his land. The culprit was a newcomer to California, otherwise he would have known the Barkley reputation and never approached Jarrod with a bribe to overlook certain details of the case. The attorney hadn't made a commitment one way or the other, as he'd wondered about something like that ever since he started investigating. Harper Grant had made too many questionable deals that were overlooked by the state for Jarrod not to wonder if there was some sort of corruption higher up. He took his suspicions to a good friend on the bench, who alerted the Attorney General. Jarrod had been asked to take the bribe and from the information he became privy to, Grant's house of cards had come tumbling down. Other evidence had come to light since, but he had started it all and Jarrod felt an obligation to be at his best.

A shot rang out in the dark. Jingo pulled up abruptly and half-reared, but Jarrod managed to control him until another shot was fired. Agony seared through his shoulder, causing him to drop the reins and Jingo bolted. Jarrod hung on as best he could, but when his mount jumped an old fence, he lost his balance and tumbled from the saddle. His head exploded with fiery pain before everything went black.

.

.

Nick looked at Jarrod's closed door. He knew his brother had to be up to catch his train, but he hadn't been home when the family turned in last night, and there was still an hour or so before Jarrod had to leave, so Nick refrained from waking him. He greeted Silas in the kitchen and thanked him when he was handed a cup of coffee. Nick drank it quickly and headed outside to go over the list of things to be done that day. It was quiet, but the rancher had risen extra early, as he knew he had to check on the cattle at the farthest corner of the ranch.

He stopped when he rounded the corner of the barn and saw Jingo in front of the closed doors. The sorrel's coat was plastered with dried sweat and when Nick approached closer, his heart stopped when he saw blood on the horse's flank.

"Easy boy," he said in a quiet voice, but Jingo only flicked his ears forward and let Nick inspect the wound without complaint. The dark rancher knew a bullet graze when he saw one as he hollered, "Ciego!"

The portly Mexican came around the corner a moment later. "Señor Nick, what is wrong?" he asked before he saw the horse. "What happened?"

"That's what I'm gonna find out," Nick growled. "Jingo's been hurt. Take care of him, all right?"

"Si." Ciego took Jingo's reins and spoke soothingly to the sorrel as he led him into the barn.

Nick hurried back into the house and, not bothering to knock, threw open the door to Jarrod's room. It was as he'd feared; Jarrod's bed was empty and there was no evidence his brother had made it home the previous night. Cursing under his breath, Nick left the room to see Heath disappear down the back stairs. Nick followed and caught up with him as he was grabbing a fresh biscuit off the tray Silas had just removed from the oven.

"Either of you see Jarrod this morning?" Nick asked, even though he was sure he already knew the answer.

Silas shook his head. "No, Mr. Nick. Maybe he left already? He sure wouldn't want to miss his train."

Nick ran a hand through his dark hair. "Jingo made it home, but I don't think Jarrod did." Both men looked at him in concern. "Heath and I are gonna go find him. Don't let Mother worry, okay, Silas?"

"But what am I supposed to tell her?" Silas asked as Heath stuffed the remains of the biscuit in his pocket as he followed Nick outside.

"Jingo was in front of the barn with a bullet wound," Nick said as they strode to the barn and their own horses, "and Jarrod's bed wasn't slept in."

Heath just nodded. They didn't need to voice their fears; they each knew what the other was thinking. Ciego knew that they would being going to look for their missing brother and already had Coco and Charger saddled and ready.

"Bring him home safe, señors," he said as he watched the brothers gallop away.

Nick and Heath slowly traversed the road to Stockton, looking for any sign of Jarrod.

"Nick, over here."

Nick moved Coco over to the side of the road and dismounted to stand behind where Heath was crouched down.

"Blood," Heath said, pointing at the small dark patch in the dirt.

Nick carefully looked around. "There's a break in the bushes over here." He took a few steps and bent down. When he turned, he was holding a tan hat.

Without any other words, the brothers remounted and rode slowly off the road. They followed the trail of broken branches and trampled grass for a few minutes, and then spotted the light brown fabric at the same time. Practically jumping from their saddles, they rushed to their fallen brother's side.

Blood soaked the fabric over Jarrod's left shoulder and the ground under his head was saturated with more blood. Nick placed his hand on Jarrod's chest and let out a sigh of relief. "He's still breathing."

"And it looks like the bleeding's stopped," Heath observed. "Let's bind his arm over his jacket so it doesn't open up." The blond cowboy took off his shirt and began tearing it into strips as he said, "I know you'll be good for a new one, big brother."

Nick tried, but couldn't even crack a smile at Heath's attempt at levity. He had just rolled Jarrod onto his back and got his first good look at the head wound.

"Oh, Jarrod," he whispered. The left side of Jarrod's head was matted with blood. It wasn't merely a gash, which by itself could account for the amount of bleeding. Nick looked to where his brother's head had been and winced at the size of the rock Jarrod must have collided with. He took the strip of cloth Heath offered and gently bound Jarrod's head.

"Charger's faster than Coco," Heath said and for once, Nick didn't argue. "I'll go for the doc. Think you can get him home? The ranch is closer than town."

"I'll get him home," Nick vowed. It took both of them to get Jarrod securely in the saddle in front of Nick and with his arms wrapped around his brother, Nick urged Coco into a smooth walk as Heath spurred Charger to a fast gallop towards town.


	2. Chapter 2

Victoria gently brushed Jarrod's cheek before reaching up to wipe away her own tears. Nick had just shaved him, stating that he knew how much Jarrod disliked looking scruffy, but that only made his face look paler under the large bandage. It had been two days since they found him and in all that time he hadn't even stirred. Dr. Merar removed the bullet in Jarrod's shoulder and gave him a transfusion of Nick's blood to replace all that he'd lost, but it was the head wound that worried everyone the most. He suspected a fracture of the skull and though he'd been hesitant to say it, the physician had gently told the family not to expect anything. Jarrod might wake, he might not. He might recover completely or he might never be the man he was. Only time would tell.

Victoria picked up the spoon and dribbled some broth between Jarrod's lips. She was pleased to see him swallow, but knew what they could give him wouldn't be enough to sustain him for very long. _Please, God,_ she prayed, _please let my son come back to me. He's too young and I love him too much for him to be taken from me like this._

"How is he?"

Victoria didn't turn at the voice; she continued to spoon the liquid into Jarrod's mouth. "There's been no change," she told her daughter.

Audra placed her hands on her mother's shoulders. "He'll come back to us, Mother. All of your children are fighters. Just give him time to heal."

Victoria nodded and placed the now empty bowl on the nightstand. "I just feel so helpless," she admitted.

"Let me sit with him for a while," Audra offered. "You need to get some rest. Or go outside for some fresh air."

Victoria opened her mouth to protest and then stopped. She knew she wouldn't do Jarrod any good if she didn't take care of herself. "I think I'll go out to the garden. But call me if there's any change."

"I will," Audra promised. She sat in the seat vacated by her mother and took Jarrod's large hand in her small one. "I love you, big brother," she whispered. "You have to be okay. You just have to."

.

He was trapped in a sea of darkness. He tried to get out, but he couldn't seem to escape the pain. He tried to remember what happened, but all he encountered was a blank wall. He tried to call for help, but he couldn't make any sound.

_Please, someone, anyone,_ he tried to call out. Then he thought he heard something. He turned towards the voice_. I love you, big brother,_ it whispered and he tried to remember where he'd heard it before as he followed the sound. He knew the voice was there somewhere, and knew it had to be attached to a familiar face. He struggled to open his eyes and escape from the darkness, but the resulting flash of light burned into him and he immediately slammed them shut.

"Jarrod?" He felt something touch his face. "Jarrod?"

He recognized the name and tried to place it. _Jarrod._ It was familiar, he should know it… It came to him in a flash. Jarrod was _his_ name. And the voice belonged to his sister Audra. He tried to say it, but couldn't quite make the right word come out.

"Just hang on, Jarrod, I'm going to call Mother. I can't tell you how happy everyone will be that you're awake."

_Mother._ He tried to picture her and received an image of a beautiful silver-haired lady. He relaxed then and let himself drift back to sleep, secure in knowing that she had always taken care of him before and still always would.

Jarrod wasn't sure how long he slept, but when he opened his eyes again, the blinding light had been replaced with a dim glow. His head pounded fiercely and he bit back a moan as he tried to sit up. The movement caused a wave of nausea to overtake him and he stopped, lying still to catch his breath. Catching movement out of the corner of his eye, Jarrod carefully turned his head. His vision blurred and doubled, but he could make out the form of his mother leaning towards him.

"Be still, sweetheart," she said.

"M-m-m…" Jarrod tried, but couldn't seem to say 'Mother' and eventually gave up. Her gentle hand caressed his cheek.

"Just relax, Jarrod," Victoria told him. "You've been hurt; it's going to take some time. Would you like some water or anything for the pain?"

"Y-yes."

She reached for a spoon and a bottle he recognized as laudanum, but that wasn't what he wanted. He tried to tell her he was thirsty, but that word wouldn't come either. "Damn!" was the word that finally burst from his lips. He knew what he wanted to say, why couldn't he do it?

"Jarrod," Victoria chastised him gently.

"S-sorry." That word came easily enough, so he tried again. "Want… w-w…" He closed his eyes tightly when he couldn't say 'water'.

But Victoria did understand. "I'll get you a drink."

Jarrod sighed in relief and let her raise his head. He drank of the small sips she gave him and didn't stop until the glass was empty. He didn't try to say 'thank-you' as she placed his head gently back on the pillow; he didn't want to fail again. Plus, his head started pounding even harder. He rested for a few moments as his mind churned. What the devil had happened? How had he been injured? The last thing he remembered was taking Jingo to the livery before he started work.

"How… h-hurt?' he asked. He held back a tear of frustration at not being able to voice the whole question, but hoped she would still know what he was asking.

"You were shot, Jarrod," Victoria told him. "We assume you lost control of Jingo and were thrown. Nick and Heath found you with a bullet in your shoulder and a large wound on the side of your head. You don't remember?"

Jarrod shook his head slightly. "Don't…"

She patted his hand. "Just rest and get well, dear. Dr. Merar said it would take some time. I'm just glad to have you back with me."

Jarrod smiled a bit through the pain and frustration. "Glad… too."

"Are you sure you don't want anything for the pain?"

"Sure." He was having a hard enough time without the disorientation the laudanum would bring. Maybe if he could get some more sleep, he'd feel better when he woke up. "Go… s-sleep," he managed.

Victoria kissed his cheek. "That sounds like the best idea. I'll come check on you in a bit."

Jarrod closed his eyes. Like his mother said, it would just take time.


	3. Chapter 3

Victoria tried to get on with her day, but when she couldn't stop worrying about her oldest child, she found herself in the dining room, polishing the silver. She was grateful Jarrod had woken, but the trouble he had speaking worried her. Just give it some time, she reminded herself, and was broken from her reverie when Silas entered the room.

"Missus Barkley, the sheriff is here. He's asking about Mr. Jarrod and wants to talk to him if he's awake."

Victoria put down the rag and platter. "Thank you, Silas." She walked into the foyer to find Sheriff Fred Madden waiting there with his hat in his hand.

"Morning, Victoria. I stopped by to see how Jarrod is."

The silver-haired lady put on a gracious smile. "He woke up last night, but he was still sleeping when I checked on him a little while ago."

Fred nodded. "I don't want to disturb him, but it would sure help me to find the shooter if I could ask him what happened."

Victoria thought a moment. She wasn't sure if Jarrod was up to speaking with the sheriff, but it would help set everyone's mind at ease if his assailant was found. And maybe a visit from a friend would be good for her son. "I'll go see if he's awake." She went upstairs, tapped lightly on Jarrod's door and went inside.

.

When Jarrod woke, his head still hurt fiercely and his shoulder was throbbing in time to the beat of his heart. He thought about trying to sit up and get a drink of water, but the nausea lurked not far off. He knew part of it was because of the concussion he likely had and the other part was likely due to the fact he hadn't eaten, but he wasn't sure how much he'd be able to keep down. Closing his eyes again, Jarrod sighed. He hated feeling helpless, but what his mother had told him was true, it was going to take time before he was back on his feet.

He opened his eyes at the knock on the door and tried to smile at Victoria as she entered.

"How are you feeling, Jarrod?"

He tried to tell her he was feeling better, even though he wasn't, but he couldn't form the words. Resigned, he just shook his head slightly.

"Fred stopped by to ask you about the shooting," Victoria informed him. "What should I tell him?"

Jarrod didn't know how much help he'd be since he didn't seem to be able to string more than two words together, let alone the fact he didn't remember anything. _Time,_ he reminded himself. "Don't…"

"Don't what, dear?" Victoria asked when he didn't say anything else.

"Don't…"

"Tell him you don't remember?" she wanted to know. "Don't send him up?"

If Jarrod could have screamed in frustration, he would have. It didn't really matter if she let Fred up; the sheriff had seen him shot and beat up before, but dammit, why couldn't he just say so? "Can't… I…" He clenched his fist to slam it on the bed, but his hand wouldn't co-operate and it only flopped down listlessly.

His mother must have sensed his frustration and said, "I'll tell him you're not ready for visitors yet," and patted his hand. Jarrod closed his eyes against the pity he saw on her face. That was something he didn't need. "Why don't I bring you something to eat when I come back up? Silas has a pot of chicken soup on the stove waiting for you."

Jarrod nodded. Silas' chicken soup would help him get his strength back and then maybe he could get back to normal.

Between Victoria and Silas, they managed to prop him up on some pillows. Jarrod didn't complain, even though the movement sent pain lancing through his head and his shoulder ached even more. He was just happy to not be lying down. He thought about eating by himself, but when he tried, he couldn't seem to grab the spoon. So Jarrod let his mother do it for him, even though he hated being fed like an infant. But he did feel better with his stomach full of the savoury broth and tried to express his gratitude when he was done. "Thank… Moth...er."

A jingle of spurs came through the open door, followed by a loud, "Is Jarrod awake?" Jarrod winced at the noise.

"Nicholas," Victoria chastised, "can't you knock?"

"Well, the door was open," Nick defended himself and then a wide smile came over his face as he saw Jarrod sitting up. "Good to see you up, Pappy," he told his older brother. "How're you feeling?" Jarrod tried to answer, but Nick didn't give him time. He held out a yellow piece of paper. "This wire came for you from Sacramento." He handed it to Jarrod, who managed to take it.

A wire from Sacramento? Jarrod had a feeling it was important and thought hard before he realized what it had to be about. The corruption trial, had it started already? He fumbled the paper open and read it.

Or tried to. He could see the letters, but he couldn't get them to make sense. Why the devil would anyone send him a wire of gibberish? He crumpled the paper in anger.

"What's wrong, Jarrod?' Nick asked. Jarrod shook his head, unable to voice his frustration. Nick took the wire. "Can I read it?" Jarrod shrugged helplessly. "It's from Jo Hamilton," Nick said. "They managed to get the indictment even without your testimony and he says he wishes you a speedy recovery." He looked at his brother curiously. "Seems to be good news, counsellor, unless you're upset you weren't in on the kill."

The message hadn't been gibberish after all and Jarrod's world was kicked out from under him. "Can't… r-read," Jarrod forced out. There was no use trying to pretend.

Nick looked at the paper, confused. "Sam's printing's pretty plain," he said and Jarrod wanted to throttle his brother.

Victoria looked at Jarrod in concern. "Are you having trouble seeing, Jarrod?"

He only wished that were the problem. "Read," he repeated again softly. He closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to see the look they exchanged; he felt bad enough without feeling like something to be pitied. "Go… go," he said and didn't open his eyes until he heard their footsteps and the door close behind them.


	4. Chapter 4

Jarrod woke to the sound of a horse whickering and a soft breeze. His head didn't seem as bad as it had last time he woke up, so he cautiously opened his eyes. The sunlight was filtered through the curtains over his window as he pushed himself up slowly to lean back against the headboard. Dr. Merar had told him to stay in bed for another day or two, but he couldn't stand lying there any longer.

Jarrod pushed the covers off, sat on the edge of the bed until the renewed pounding in his head eased and then slowly got to his feet. He wobbled and caught the bedpost just in time to prevent himself from falling. Clamping down firmly against the nausea the movement caused, Jarrod waited for it to pass before taking a shaky step towards the window, and then another. He finally reached it and leaned against the windowsill. Dr. Merar was probably right and he probably shouldn't be out of bed, but now that he'd gotten that far, he decided to take a book off the bookshelf. It had been a couple days since he'd tried to read the telegram and surely it would be better by now.

Jarrod opened the well-worn book. He knew D'Artagnan's story by heart, but the page could have been written in the original French for all he could tell. The French would have made more sense than what he saw in front of him, Jarrod thought angrily. He hurled the book across the room. It hit a lamp, shattering the glass chimney and Jarrod collapsed into the nearby chair. He buried his face in his hands as the pain came back ten-fold and barely managed to retain the contents of his stomach.

His door opened and Heath came in. "I heard a crash. What happened? And what are you doing up?"

Jarrod didn't bother to look up as Heath gently gripped his good arm. "Here, big brother, let me help you back to bed."

Jarrod tried to argue and insist he could do it himself. "I… let…" Then he stumbled and almost fell and all the fight went out of him. He meekly let Heath get him settled back under the covers.

"Now, if you promise not to do a fool thing like that again, I won't tell Mother. Deal?"

Jarrod could only nod and watch as Heath cleaned up the broken glass. "You must've dropped this," he said as he brought the book over and placed it by the bed. "I hear Silas made beef stew for supper. You feel up to it?"

Jarrod sighed and shrugged. He'd try, but it didn't really matter. He wasn't sure how anything could matter again.

.

Victoria was growing more worried. Dr. Merar had been out several times to check on Jarrod and pronounced that his shoulder was healing nicely. But that wasn't what had her worried. Howard told Jarrod, with the rest of the family in attendance, that head injuries were unpredictable. They all could see that the physician was as frustrated as his patient by his inability to do anything other than advise patience, time and understanding, but they knew he was doing whatever he could to help.

Patience and understanding were two things Victoria had no lack of when it came to her children. But it was Jarrod's withdrawal from them that bothered her the most. She knew her family could get through anything if they stood together, but Jarrod was shutting them out and wouldn't let her or his siblings help him. Oh, he let them take care of his physical needs without much complaint, but when they tried to draw him out, to engage him in the happenings around the ranch or of their friends and neighbours, he just closed his eyes and turned away. It wasn't unexpected for a man who prided himself on his eloquence and learning to be angered by his difficulty speaking, but Victoria strongly believed he only needed to try.

At that morning's visit, Dr. Merar gave Jarrod permission to get out of bed and start using his arm and Victoria was determined her son would do just that. Being cooped up in his room couldn't be good for a vigorous man like Jarrod. She knocked on his door and entered, pleased to find him sitting up in bed.

"I think we'll have lunch on the verandah today," she informed him brightly as she pulled a shirt and pants out of his wardrobe. "Would you like some help getting dressed?" She stood firm as Jarrod glared at her and eventually his expression softened. "You will come down, Jarrod," she said gently. "It's a beautiful day."

Jarrod gave a resigned sigh as he took the clothes. "Do. I…"

"You can manage?"

He nodded slowly.

"I'll check on you in about twenty minutes in case you need some help on the stairs," she told him.

Jarrod sighed again as she left the room. He had gotten out of bed a few more times since the first attempt and had made his shaky way to the chair by the window, but it hadn't been easy. Any movement sent his head to throbbing and he couldn't seem to walk straight. He slowly swung his legs over the edge of the bed and pulled off his sleeping pants. Getting his trousers on was a bit more difficult. He couldn't manage the buttons easily with his right hand shaking and his left arm still sore.

Jarrod was sweating by the time he got his shirt on and the buttons done up. If he was having so much trouble with such simple tasks… _Just give it time,_ he remembered the doctor saying. Time. How he was getting to hate that word. How much time was it going to take? A week? A month? A lifetime?

Not wanting to wait for help, Jarrod made it to the door by using the furniture to stabilize himself. He hoped no one would see him as he weaved down the hallway; it probably looked like he'd had a few too many at the saloon. Reaching the top of the stairs, he looked down and took a deep breath. Taking one step at a time, the top three to the landing weren't bad, but then he was confronted with the main staircase. He swayed as he stepped down and leaned heavily against the banister before he fell.

_You have to do this,_ Jarrod told himself, _otherwise you'll be stuck up in that room unless someone is around to help you down. You've been walking on your own two feet since you were a toddler, you can do it again._

He couldn't grip the banister with his injured arm, so he continued leaning on it as he took step by slow step. Sagging in relief when he reached the bottom, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye and saw his mother standing there with a tear on her cheek and undisguised pity in her eyes. That was harder to take than the difficulty he had making it downstairs.

"Not… hard," he choked out and gave her a small smile.

"Of course not, dear," Victoria said but Jarrod knew she was just trying to pacify him. She walked over and took his arm, not as she would for him to escort her, but in a firm, supporting grip. "Now lunch is ready."

"Made... it," he protested. He'd made it down the stairs on his own; he could surely make it out to the verandah.

"No, I didn't, Silas made lunch," she said as she started to guide him to the dining room.

"Myself," he snapped, wanting her to understand, and pulled away only to stumble into the hall table. He brushed her hand away as she came to help. "Pl…ease," he whispered.

"All right, Jarrod," Victoria acquiesced, "but I'm here if you need me."

Jarrod nodded, but was determined to make it by himself out to the verandah and into a chair without falling over.

Lunch was cold roast beef and rolls, things that were easy to handle, but Jarrod still had a hard time getting the food to his mouth. His co-ordination was off and it took him several tries for each bite. He was grateful to his mother for refraining from trying to do it for him and was doubly grateful that it was something that didn't make too big of a mess. He didn't dare try the coffee; he decided to wait until he was in his room where no one could see how much he spilled.

Audra came out after they had finished and a sunny smile broke over her face when she saw him.

"Jarrod! You're up!" She gave him an enthusiastic kiss on the cheek and placed a few papers down in front of him. "Your clerk asked me to give these to you when I saw him in town. He said they just need your signature. I'll get you a pen."

She vanished inside and Jarrod glanced at the papers. It was as he'd feared; he had no idea what they said. He couldn't put his name to something if he didn't know what it was, so he reluctantly looked to Victoria. "What i-is…?"

Victoria took them and spent a minute perusing. "It's a copy of your statement for the Grant case," she told him. "Since it could be a while before you can testify, they're going to try to get your written testimony admitted."

A while. That was the understatement of the year. Jarrod held back his anger at the whole situation and just nodded instead.

Audra came back with a pen and ink and set it in front of him. "Here you are."

Jarrod took the pen in a shaky grip. It took him three tries to dip it into the inkwell and but after he signed his name at the bottom of the page, he could only stare at the illegible scrawl in dismay. He didn't miss the glance his mother and sister exchanged before Victoria took the pen.

"I'll witness it for you," she reassured him and penned her elegant signature beneath his scribble. "There. One of us can take it into town later."

Jarrod endured another few minutes of small talk before he couldn't take it anymore. He pushed back his chair and pulled himself up. "My… room," he told them and was grateful they didn't try to follow as he fled as fast as he could back to his sanctuary.

.

.

_A/N: I have to say a big thank you to andia, whose story 'No Evil That Good Doesn't Come' was the inspiration for mine and the millions of people suffering head trauma who don't have the Barkley magic to cure them, who are an inspiration in themselves. _

_._


	5. Chapter 5

Jarrod would have much preferred to eat alone in his room, but his mother had asked and he knew how important having everyone together was to her. So he swallowed his pride and took his customary seat at the table at suppertime. The conversation swirled around him as he concentrated on getting his fork to his mouth without spilling too much.

"So Nick, did you get the contract from Wilson to buy that 600 acres?" Heath asked.

"Yep," Nick answered as he grabbed for a piece of bread. "All we gotta do is have Jarrod look at it…" The conversation paused and Jarrod could feel everyone's eyes on him. To make matters worse, he missed his mouth and the carrots ended up on the floor. "Well, just gotta have it looked over," Nick finished lamely.

Jarrod suddenly couldn't take it. He couldn't take the pity in his family's eyes for one moment longer. He pushed back abruptly from the table and fled to the library.

Slamming his fist into the paneling beside the door, Jarrod mentally cursed himself. He couldn't even read the headlines in the newspaper, for heaven's sakes. He recognized the letters and even some of the words, but his mind just wouldn't make them form into anything coherent. How the devil was he supposed to take care of the family businesses if he couldn't even do that? How could he be anything other than a burden? Jarrod stared at the shelf of law books. Useless. They were all worthless to him now, just like he was to his family.

Suddenly, a hot rage overwhelmed Jarrod. "Useless," he growled. He lurched over to the bookcase, ripped the door open and started throwing the books onto the floor. "Useless!" He emptied the shelves in spite of his injured arm, then turned to the table beside them and swept it clear before he gave it a powerful shove to send it toppling.

The commotion was heard in the dining room. Everyone left their meal and entered the library just in time to see Jarrod sweep the bottles and glasses off their table with a resounding crash.

"Jarrod, stop it!" Nick yelled and went to grab him, only to be held back by Heath when Jarrod turned his enraged gaze on them.

"Useless!" he yelled at them. "Damn…" Then the fight went out of his eyes and Jarrod collapsed to his knees. "No… good," he sobbed harshly. "Not…"

An understanding came over the rest of the family. They all knew Jarrod was struggling with his speech and coordination, and knew what had happened when he'd tried to sign his name earlier. But until that moment when they saw him broken and on his knees, no one had really realized how much he was hurting. He had always been the strong one. He was always there when anyone needed him and now they had to make sure he knew they were there for him.

Audra was the first to go to him, to wrap her arms around her big brother's shaking form. "I love you, Jarrod. Nothing will ever change that."

"You've always taken care of us, Pappy," Nick added, coming to put an arm around Jarrod as well. "Let us take care of you for a change."

Jarrod shook his head. "D-don't…" he stuttered. "Can't…"

Victoria knelt down. Nick and Audra moved out of the way and let their mother cradle her eldest's head against her chest. "Jarrod, you don't have to do anything but be here with us. Nothing else matters as long as we can see your smile and have you by our sides." Jarrod looked up at her with red-rimmed eyes, fear, pain and hope all warring in his expression. "We love you, sweetheart, nothing else matters. And we will do whatever we can to help."

Jarrod's breath caught as he looked from face to face and saw the same love and acceptance from each of his family. "L-love you," he choked out. "I…" His siblings all joined Victoria in embracing Jarrod and they stayed that way for several long moments. Then Jarrod lifted his head and grinned sheepishly at the damage. "M-mess," he told them. "Need to… clean."

"Oh, don't worry about it, Jarrod," Victoria assured him. "We'll take care of it."

"No," he insisted, getting to his feet. "I d-did. Me…" He picked up a book and tried to straighten the bent pages.

Heath retrieved another book and placed it on top of the one in Jarrod's hands. "We'll help, big brother. You'll be here all night otherwise." He gave Jarrod a crooked smile and Jarrod grinned back as everyone pitched in together.

.

.

Jarrod looked down at the letters printed awkwardly across the page.

_JARROD BARKLEY_

He sighed, but he wasn't as unhappy with it as he thought he would be. Under his sister's tutelage, he was trying to make his hand do what his mind told it to. They had started out with just the alphabet and Jarrod had broken at least five pencils in frustration before he got it right. But he had progressed and today they were trying familiar words.

Audra looked at what he'd just written and smiled. "Now try my name, Jarrod."

Jarrod took a deep breath, gripped the pencil tightly and started. He knew her name and knew that he should know how to write it, but it was a struggle. He finished, turned to her and the beaming smile on her face when she saw her name, untidy as it was, made the hard work worth it. Jarrod couldn't help but smile back.

"If you'd like, I could borrow some of the primers from school," Audra suggested hesitantly. Jarrod bristled at the thought of going back to children's books and took firm hold of his temper. She was only trying to help. And it didn't matter that he knew things, that he could still go over decisions made by the Supreme Court for the past twenty years in his head and name all of the vast Barkley holdings and who ran each, it was all worthless if he couldn't express it. So he reluctantly nodded and was rewarded with another smile and an enthusiastic hug.

"I'll get them when I go into town," she promised.

"Hey, Jarrod!" Jarrod winced at the booming yell and Audra huffed in exasperation.

"Really, Nick," she chided her boisterous brother.

"Sorry," Nick said contritely. "How's the head, Pappy?"

Jarrod just shrugged and smiled. He was grateful the headaches were getting fewer and less intense and hoped Nick understood what he was trying to say without struggling for the words.

Nick took his meaning and grinned. "Well, if you're feeling up to it, Heath and I got done that fence early and we're heading into town. Get a few drinks, play a few hands of cards, what do you say?"

A knot of anxiety formed in Jarrod's stomach. He hadn't been to town since his injury. The thought of people talking to him and not being able to respond intelligently was terrifying. But he also knew he couldn't stay shut up in the house forever.

Nick must have noticed, because he quickly said, "Or maybe the three of us could find something else…"

Jarrod cut him off with a quick shake of his head. "Town," he said clearly and was pleased to see Nick's smile return.

"Grab your hat, then, Jarrod, and let's make tracks."

They went out to the barn. As they entered the corral, the sorrel horse spotted him and came over to bump his nose against his chest. Jarrod reached up and scratched him behind the ears before hesitantly running his hand over the scarred shoulder. He felt a bit guilty about not visiting Jingo since the accident.

"O… kay?" he asked Nick.

Nick patted the red coat. "Not even a limp," he assured Jarrod. "He'll be fine to take you into town and I'm sure you'll feel better if it's Jingo you're riding."

Jarrod had to admit that was true. He and Jingo had been together for more than a few years and he trusted the gelding like no other horse. He took hold of the halter, carefully walked to the barn and used the sorrel to keep his balance. With Nick's help, they managed to get him saddled before Heath came over.

"See you talked him into joining us," Heath told Nick with a grin for Jarrod.

"Yep." Nick grinned at both of them with a glint in his eye. "Pappy even said he's buying."

"No… I…" Jarrod protested, and then shook his head in amused exasperation when both his brothers started laughing. Teasing banter among the three of them was such a familiar and comfortable thing that it didn't bother him they were using his infirmity as an excuse.

"Need a boost, Jarrod?" Heath asked.

Jarrod hadn't realized Heath was watching as he eyed up the saddle, wondering if he'd be able to pull himself into it. He shouldn't have been surprised, though, as his blond brother was always observant. Reluctantly he nodded and Heath took his right boot as Jarrod got the left in the stirrup and helped him up.

"Th-thank…" Jarrod said.

"Anytime, big brother."

Jarrod guided Jingo to where his brother's horses were and soon the three of them were heading into Stockton.


	6. Chapter 6

Jarrod was grateful to his brothers when they refrained from helping him off Jingo's back after they got to town and swung out of the saddle slowly and carefully. It took a moment for him to regain his balance and as he hung on, he murmured a thanks to Jingo for being such a patient and well-behaved horse.

"C'mon, Jarrod," Nick said with a grin, "I hear a cold beer calling my name."

Jarrod took a deep breath and followed Nick into the saloon with Heath behind them. He moved slowly, but he knew his steps still looked like a drunken stagger and breathed a sigh of relief when he was able to lean against the bar.

"Hey, Harry, bring us some beers, would you?" Heath called to the bartender.

"Sure thing, Heath." The portly barman set three foaming mugs in front of the brothers and smiled at Jarrod. "Good to see you out, Jarrod. We were all pretty worried about you."

Jarrod managed a smile back. "M-me… too."

"So I hear the date for the Grant trial has been set," Harry said conversationally. "I guess you're gonna be up there to make sure he's put away and then all them other phonies with him. Can't have people like that running our Golden State."

"I… I…" Jarrod couldn't get anything else out and tried again. "N-not…" He gave up in frustration.

Harry gave him a curious look and was about to say something else when he was summoned by another patron.

"Don't worry about it, Jarrod," Heath quietly told him with a friendly squeeze on his arm.

Jarrod nodded, but when he attempted to lift his beer, some of it sloshed out and he set it back down untouched. Maybe coming to town hadn't been such a good idea after all, he thought as his brothers started talking about a recent drop in the price of cattle. He tried to ignore the looks and whispers he heard as he listened to Nick and Heath, but it was hard. "Not right in the head" was one of the phrases muttered and "simpleton" was another word he overheard. He clenched the edge of the bar tightly as he tried to control his temper and not cause a scene. What others said usually didn't bother him, but he had a short fuse lately and hearing the snickers behind his back wasn't helping.

"Hey boys." Jarrod tensed when he recognized the smug tone.

"J.R." Nick's reply was barely civil.

Jarrod slowly turned his head to see the Morton brothers' sneering faces.

"Jarrod, how are things?" Zack said, thumping him on the shoulder. Jarrod winced, but kept his face unreadable.

"Z-Z-Zack," he greeted.

Both brothers sniggered. "Ah, leave the poor idiot alone," J.R. said mockingly.

Nick scowled. "Watch your mouth," he warned, but it was too late. Jarrod's frayed nerves had taken as much as they could handle and his fist connected solidly with Zack's jaw. The younger Morton went down and J.R. advanced on Jarrod.

"Why you…" But his punch never landed. Jarrod grabbed J.R.'s arm to help regain his balance and both men landed on the floor. Jarrod managed to get on top and started pounding J.R. in the face.

"Not… idiot!" he said, punctuating the words with his fist. He struggled as hands grabbed him from behind and then let up when he realized it was Nick.

"Stop it, Jarrod!" his brother ordered.

Jarrod took a deep breath and let Nick steady him. "Sorry," he apologized. "Don't… know…"

Heath took a look at Jarrod's rapidly swelling hand. "Don't worry about it, Jarrod," his blond brother assured him. "Most of damage is to their faces, but I reckon you might've broke your hand on that rock J.R. uses for a head."

Jarrod cradled his arm to his chest. "Hurts," he admitted softly.

"Reckon it does. Hey, Harry," Nick called, "we're gonna take Jarrod to the doc's. Settle up for the drinks later?"

"Sure thing, Nick," Harry agreed and chuckled. "Wonder what he'll say when he finds out it wasn't you starting the fight for a change."

.

.

"You're lucky you just sprained it," Dr. Merar said sternly as he bandaged Jarrod's wrist. "You need to be careful. No telling what another blow to the head might do to you."

Jarrod cringed. The last thing he needed was any further impairment of his faculties. "Try to… b-be good," he said uncomfortably.

"And you two…" Dr. Merar fixed Nick and Heath with a severe look. "You need to look out for him. Let your brother do things for himself, but Jarrod, you might think you're capable of more than you actually are at the moment. Between the three you, I'm trusting you to stay out of trouble."

Jarrod reluctantly nodded in agreement and Nick and Heath assured the doctor they'd make Jarrod take it easy.

.

"Y'know, Jarrod," Nick said as they stepped out onto the sidewalk, "I was gonna take a swing at Zack myself until you beat me to it."

"Those Mortons should know better than to take on one Barkley, let alone three," Heath drawled with a grin. "I don't suppose you've got any good scotch in your office, big brother. I think you deserve it."

Jarrod smiled. He knew how fortunate he was to have the brothers he did. "All… do," he corrected and the three of them made their way to Jarrod's office.

.

.

"Do you think the lawyer's gonna give us any more trouble?" Harper Grant was a tall man, broad through the shoulders with an imposing presence. He'd mentally kicked himself from California to Missouri and back again for not thoroughly checking out his opponent before trying to buy off Jarrod Barkley, but one couldn't turn back time, one could only try to influence the future.

"Not from what I saw." The lanky cowboy draped himself into a chair. "Man can barely string two words together. Don't think he's got the wits of a donkey left. He ain't in any position to testify."

"Good." Grant fixed his employee with a steely glare. "That almost makes up for your blunder in not killing him outright. Hamilton got the indictment without his testimony, but I don't think the rest of the evidence is strong enough for a jury to convict without it." And if it was, Grant thought grimly, he'd make sure Jarrod Barkley died a slow and lingering death, no matter what his mental capacity.


	7. Chapter 7

_I left the amount of time between scenes vague due to the inconsistency of recovery from traumatic brain injury, but I would say no less than a month has passed from the start of the story to this point. I would love to link to a site of support for those with traumatic brain injury, but since fanfiction does not allow that due to annoying spammers, this is the best I can do_

_http: double backslash www dot headinjury dot com backslash linktbisup dot htm_

_._

_.  
><em>

Silas answered the door. The tall, craggy faced man who stood on the porch handed over his card.

"I'd like to see Jarrod Barkley, please. Is he home?"

Silas glanced at the card. "Come in, Mr. Hamilton," he said and closed the door behind California's state attorney. "I'll see if he's taking visitors. Go ahead and make yourself comfortable."

He found his employer in the library at the billiard table and beamed when Jarrod sunk the ball he was aiming at. "That was a good shot, Mr. Jarrod," he congratulated.

Jarrod smiled in satisfaction. Not a big accomplishment, but it was something he'd been working at and it felt good. He couldn't wait until his brothers came home to challenge them to a game, even though they'd probably still beat the pants off him.

Silas handed him the card. "The Attorney General is here to see you. He's waiting in the parlour if you feel like talking to him."

Jarrod felt a surge of uneasiness. He'd signed the deposition, so the only reason Jo Hamilton would make the trip down to Stockton was if… He pushed away that thought. He wouldn't be any help to the trial; surely the other man would realize that. "I'll… go." He replaced the pool cue and made his way to the parlour. His balance was getting better, but his gait was still somewhat unsteady.

His visitor rose as he entered the room and Jarrod held out his hand. "J-Jo," he greeted.

"Jarrod." The other man's handshake was firm and both men sat. "How are you?"

"Get-ting along," Jarrod said slowly. "How…?" He couldn't get the next word to come out and shook his head.

Hamilton nodded gravely. "I received the letter Victoria wrote regarding your accident and I'm aware of the problems you're having. But Jarrod, I need to know how much you remember of your testimony against Grant. The judge won't allow your written statement to be entered without you present. He says Grant's lawyer has a right to question you and I can't fault him for that. And without it, I don't know if we can get a conviction." He waited.

Jarrod took a deep breath. He and Hamilton respected each other and had worked together as well as opposed each other in the past on different legislations. Jarrod didn't want the other man to think him less than capable, so he did his best to take his time and get the right words out. "I… remem-ber all," he stammered, "just… can't make… words… c-come." He was sweating with the effort and felt ashamed at his lack of eloquence in front of a man known for his oratorical skills.

Jarrod appreciated that Hamilton showed no evidence of pity or any indication that he felt sorry for him. "Well, that's something. Does that mean I can count on your testimony at the trial next week?"

Jarrod got up and went to the fireplace. He hadn't gone to town since the incident with the Mortons; it was hard just to interact with the family he knew supported him unconditionally. To put himself out there, in front of a judge and jury, a gallery of spectators and the press that was certain to attend…

"I've watched you ever since that first conflict with the Coastal and Western." Hamilton's voice was deep and confident. "I've seen you bring in legislation that helped your valley immensely and I've watched you fight against government policy even when your views weren't popular. You're a brilliant attorney, Jarrod, and I have the feeling that hasn't changed. And I've never heard of Jarrod Barkley ever backing down from a fight. Grant is just the start. If we don't convict him, there's no way we can get him to give us the evidence we need to stop the corruption higher up."

Jarrod fought against his fears. Hamilton was right; they needed this conviction. His pride didn't matter, what others thought of him didn't matter. All that mattered was to see that justice was done, and if the Attorney General thought the best way to do that was for him to get up on the witness stand, then that was what he would have to do. "I'll… test… testi… testify."

Hamilton got up and shook Jarrod's hand firmly. "I knew I could count on you, Jarrod. The trial starts Wednesday, can you be in Sacramento by Tuesday so we can go over your statement?"

Jarrod nodded. "Stay… for lunch?" he asked.

Shaking his head, Hamilton said, "No, I've got to catch the first train back. I'll see you in my office on Friday."

Jarrod saw the Attorney General to the door and then went back to sink into his favourite chair. He thought back to the time he'd been blinded during the Cunningham trial. It had been hard, but he managed to get past his handicap then. He'd worked through his fears before with his family's support; he only hoped he could do it this time.

.

Debate raged around the dinner table. The family was adamant that Jarrod not travel to the capitol alone and he was just as adamant that he didn't need a nursemaid. The daughter of his mother's best friend was getting married that weekend; both she and Audra were heavily involved in the wedding and couldn't very well be absent. Work on the ranch was hectic with Nick and Heath preparing for a large cattle drive and neither brother really had the time to take off and accompany him to Sacramento.

"Jarrod, you can't go by yourself and that's final," Victoria said firmly.

Jarrod glared at her. "No. I'm… adult. Don't n-need…" He clenched his fist tightly.

"Dr. Merar made us promise to keep you out of trouble," Heath reminded him. "Don't want us to break a promise, do you?"

"Ranch needs… you," Jarrod replied firmly. "J-Jo… need me. Be… fine."

Nick put down his fork. "I know you've got your stubborn Jarrod Barkley mind made up, but we're Barkleys too and just as obstinate as you are. Yes, you can likely do it on your own, but I'd feel a heck of a lot better knowing I have your back." He jabbed an accusing finger at Jarrod. "You seem to be forgetting there's someone out there who took a shot at you. Heath's perfectly capable of handling things here without me, so I'm going with you whether you like it or not." Nick sat back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest and stared at Jarrod defiantly.

Jarrod stared angrily at his brother for a moment before he started to chuckle. "Obstin… stin… Mule, Nick."

"Yes, I am and that's a fact," Nick agreed with a grin of his own.

Much as he wanted to prove he was capable of doing it on his own, Jarrod was relieved to know Nick would be with him. His brother was right; there still might be someone gunning for him for whatever reason and it was comforting to know he had Nick at his back. He still wasn't looking forward to taking the stand, but having a member of his family there would help make it a little bit easier.

.

.

A/N: Jo Hamilton was California's 10th and 12th Attorney General, serving from 1867-1871 and 1875-1880. He was known for his oratorical excellence and his measured, calculated approach was a marked departure from the gun-slinging, punch-throwing of previous holders of the office. from a website on the history of California that I can't link to here


	8. Chapter 8

The meeting with the Attorney General went smoothly and Jarrod left the office slightly more relaxed than when he entered. Hamilton would read his signed testimony into evidence and then get Jarrod to stipulate to its accuracy. The only worry now was the questions Grant's attorney might ask, but Jarrod knew Hamilton would do his best to keep them on track.

"Hey, Jarrod," Nick said as they walked towards their hotel, "remember that place we went to last time we were here? Charley's, I think the name was. Why don't we head there for an early dinner before we check out the town? I seem to recall the steaks being at least three inches thick."

Jarrod would rather have gotten something from the hotel to eat in the privacy of their room and call it an early night, but he figured he might as well get used to being out in public if he was going to appear in court the next day. "Okay," he agreed.

Even though it was early, the restaurant had no lack of patrons. The brothers procured a table off to the side and Jarrod watched with a hint of envy as Nick flirted with the waitress who came to take their order. He wondered how many women would even give him a second glance if he tried to start up a conversation the way he sounded now.

"What do you say after dinner we try to scare up a poker game?" Nick asked and to that Jarrod had no problem agreeing. In spite of the difficulty he had speaking and reading, numbers didn't give him any trouble and he'd found that even his brothers tended to underestimate him now at cards.

The waitress did give Jarrod a smile, the same as the one she had for Nick and he felt a little bit better until he looked at the juicy steak and steaming pile of mashed potatoes and gravy. Jarrod hoped he wasn't about to make a complete spectacle of himself, but the first scoop of potato made it to his mouth without any trouble and so did the second. Cutting the meat was awkward, though. He hoped no one was watching as he clumsily shredded his steak into pieces.

"Jarrod, I wasn't thinking…"

Jarrod glanced up to find Nick with a guilty look on his face. "Don't, Nick," Jarrod said warningly. "Not… pret-ty, but can… manage." He deliberately put a bite into his mouth.

But Nick still looked chagrined. "If you just want to head back to the hotel after supper, that'll be all right with me."

Jarrod shook his head. He had to start living his life again, no matter what people thought of him. "Poker," he replied firmly. "Y-you said."

Nick's face broke out in a wide, relieved grin. "Okay, Pappy, poker it is."

It wasn't hard to find a busy saloon after dinner with a few games in progress. A couple empty chairs were at one of the tables as Jarrod and Nick walked over.

"Room for a couple more?" Nick asked.

The well-dressed man with the cards regarded them closely and then nodded his head. "Pull up a chair."

Nick and Jarrod sat down and Jarrod smiled at the girl who came over with a bottle and glasses. "T-table… limit?" he asked. He hadn't missed the way everyone looked at him as he walked up and didn't miss the glance exchanged between the other players.

"Was five dollars," the man sporting a large moustache said, "but reckon we could raise it to, oh, ten?"

"Good… for m-me," Jarrod said slowly. "You, N-nick?"

Nick shrugged. "No complaints here."

The well-dressed man shuffled the cards as he eyed Jarrod carefully. "You sure?"

Nick did an admirable job of hiding his snort of laughter. "Oh, he's sure all right," he answered for Jarrod. "Are we gonna play cards or what?"

They settled down to the game. Jarrod handled the cards awkwardly when it came his turn to deal, but it was soon obvious that any assumptions the others made about his ability to play were ill-conceived. The girl who brought the drinks even took up a position at his side with her hand on his shoulder.

"See… two, r-raise five." Jarrod's eyes held a glint of amusement as he watched his opponents. In spite of the low opinion of his intellect he knew the others started out with, he was actually enjoying himself. Or maybe it was just the fact he was proving them wrong, dollar by dollar, and even though she was being paid to be friendly, the attentions of the pretty girl didn't hurt his mood in the least. _Maybe if things don't get better, I can change careers and become a professional gambler,_ he thought with an inward chuckle.

Nick set down his cards. "I know better. If I'm not careful, you're gonna own the north ridge as well as the south pasture, big brother."

Jarrod's mouth quirked as he waited for the others, but both men folded.

"Think that's the night for me," the moustached man said. "I'd say it's been a pleasure, gentlemen, but that would make me a liar."

The other gambler bowed out as well.

"Good game, Jarrod," Nick said with a salute of his glass. Jarrod smiled and saluted back. He handed the saloon girl a large tip before they finished off their drinks and headed for their hotel. Neither noticed the lanky cowboy who followed them out of the bar and melted into the shadows behind them.

"Barkley's in Sacramento?" Grant tossed the paper he was holding onto the desk in frustration. "I thought you said he'd never be able to testify!"

His employee shrugged. "From what I hear, Hamilton's gonna put him on the stand. But do you really think the jury's gonna give a man who sounds like a half-wit any credibility?"

Grant glared at him. "He might sound like one, but Barkley's a well-known attorney. His reputation might just sway them, no matter what he sounds like. Or worse yet, they might even feel sorry for him!" He got to his feet. "No, you're just going to have to finish the job you botched the first time around. Take care of Barkley, and take care of him permanently."


	9. Chapter 9

The trial was to start at nine, so the brothers made sure to rise early. Nick asked for breakfast to be delivered to their room and after they ate, Jarrod let Nick help him shave without even a token protest.

As he buckled on the gunbelt Nick insisted he wear, Jarrod was again thankful his brother was with him. They didn't know if someone was still after him and Jarrod was dubious as to his ability to draw and fire with any sort of accuracy. A wild shot would put innocent bystanders at risk, which left him extremely unwilling to defend himself with a firearm. He'd never admit it, but Jarrod knew he'd be unable to protect himself if that sort of situation arose.

"Ready to go?'

Jarrod took a deep breath and nodded an affirmative as he reminded himself of his mother's words from the year before. _Time will only ask for more time._ "R-ready."

Nick kept by Jarrod's side, making sure no one jostled him in the early morning crowd. Some stopped and stared at his unsteady steps, but most people didn't give him a second glance as they hurried to their destinations. Jarrod started to relax and enjoy the warm morning along with the bustle of the busy capitol. He knew that no matter what he'd lost, he still had things to be thankful for, not the least of which was the simple fact he was alive and able to take pleasure in something as taken for granted as a walk down the street.

A shot rang out to send the crowd scattering. Jarrod felt the whistle as the bullet whizzed by his ear and dove behind the shelter of some nearby barrels. Nick returned fire before he joined his brother. No answering shots came and Nick cautiously poked his head out. Still nothing.

"Stay here," he told Jarrod, but Jarrod wasn't inclined to listen and followed Nick across the street to where people were beginning to gather around a prone form.

A young man with a silver star on his vest elbowed his way to the front of the crowd. "I'm Deputy Nanton. What happened?" he wanted to know.

"This man took a shot at me and my brother," Nick answered as he looked at the blood pooled around the dead man's chest. "I fired back."

"Hmmm." The deputy crouched down, turned over the body and looked at the man carefully. "Know him?"

Jarrod did know him. He'd seen the lanky man at Grant's office the few times he'd been there. "I-I do." At Nanton and Nick's questioning looks, he attempted to elaborate. "D-don't know… name. W-w-worked f-for… Grant."

The deputy looked at him with wide eyes. "The President?" he asked incredulously.

"No," Nick answered for Jarrod, "the snake who my brother's testifying against this morning. Wonder how he's going to like an attempted assassination added to his other charges?"

Nanton straightened up. "I'm gonna need your names and statements," he informed them.

"After… tr-trial," Jarrod said firmly.

Nick nodded. "He's right. Names are Nick and Jarrod Barkley. We're staying at the Grand Hotel and we'll be at the courthouse all morning."

Nodding, the lawman said, "I'll catch up with you there." He turned and called to the crowd, "I need anyone who saw what happened and someone to fetch the undertaker!"

"Reckon that answers a lot of questions," Nick said as they continued on their way.

"Y-yep." He really should have thought of it before, Jarrod chided himself. Grant trying to keep him from testifying was the most logical reason why someone wanted to kill him.

Sudden, most of Jarrod's trepidation at appearing in court left him. He had agreed to testify because he knew it was necessary, but now he had another incentive. He wanted to look Grant in the eye and show him he'd failed, to prove that no one could stop a Barkley from doing what was right. Even killing their father hadn't helped the Coastal and Western; it had only made others' resolve stronger and Jarrod was grateful he was still alive to continue his own fight.

.

.

"And can you see that man in the courtroom here today?"

"Y-yes." Jarrod answered Hamilton's question without hesitation and pointed to Harper Grant. "R-right… there." Jarrod snuck another glance at the jury. He'd been keeping a covert eye on their reactions all through his testimony, and, from the expressions on their faces, the twelve men didn't seem to be dismissing what he said. On the contrary, they seemed to be paying even more attention to his words than they had to anyone else.

"I have one last thing to bring up, Your Honour, the matter we discussed earlier."

The other man behind the defendant's table stood. "And I renew my objection."

"And your objection is still overruled," the judge informed him. "Proceed, Mr. Hamilton."

Hamilton tucked his fingers in his pockets and faced the jury without actually looking at them, a technique which Jarrod had found effective more than once. "Mr. Barkley, you and your brother were shot at on the way here this morning, is that correct?"

"Y-yes."

"And the perpetrator was killed, to my understanding?"

"Yes."

Hamilton turned to face Jarrod. "Mr. Barkley, can you tell the court where you had seen your assailant before?"

Jarrod took a deep breath. "H-he…" He couldn't manage anything else, so he stopped and tried again. "I saw… th-the man… w-with… the… def-endant," he finally said with agonizing slowness.

"More than once?"

"At… at least… th-three times."

"No further questions of this witness, Your Honour."

"Mr. Jameson, do you have any questions?"

Jarrod closed his eyes briefly to compose himself as he waited. He knew Hamilton had tried to keep it so his answers could be brief, but that wasn't going to be the case with Grant's attorney. He saw Jameson confer with his client, saw Grant shake his head and Jameson gesture at the jury. Finally, Grant slumped in his chair and nodded.

"No questions, Your Honour. And I would like a short recess to confer with Mr. Hamilton."

The judge nodded. "Very well. Mr Barkley, you are excused. And court will recess for lunch until one o'clock." He hit his gavel on the bench.

Jarrod joined Nick in the gallery and raised a questioning eyebrow when his brother couldn't hold back a chuckle.

"That other lawyer is an astute fellow," Nick said with a grin. "He noticed how seriously the judge and jury took your testimony and the fact that Grant likely caused your injuries sealed it. He was whispering to Grant to give up and take whatever sort of deal Hamilton would offer."

Jarrod smiled in relief. It had all been worth it then. "Lunch," he told Nick. "I-I'll buy."


	10. Chapter 10

Jarrod signed his name with a flourish. If he had to be honest, it wasn't exactly a flourish, but it was legible and looked somewhat like his signature. He'd come a long way since the success of the trial in Sacramento and although he didn't think he'd ever get back to the way he was, at least he was making some progress.

"Oh, I wish I could see Gene's face when he gets this," Audra sighed. "To think, the hospital is going to have a whole section named after his family."

Jarrod couldn't forget the last letter he'd received from his youngest brother. It had been written in simple language, but it was the first thing he'd read and truly been able to understand since the shooting. He was touched by Gene's show of love and support and the young doctor's lament that there just wasn't enough money to truly take care of patients with head injuries and the problems they had cut him to the core. In response, he dipped into his personal investments and was giving Gene enough to start a program to help those inflicted by head trauma, some of who might not enjoy the same support he had from his family. Jarrod knew he wouldn't have been able to come as far as he had without them.

Victoria handed him another paper and as Jarrod read it slowly, his eyes widened in surprise.

"The rest of us matched your endowment, Jarrod," she explained. "What you've been though, and how you've handled it…"

Jarrod blinked back a tear. "Thank y-you." He looked at her, at Nick and Heath and Audra, their smiles all touching his heart and this time, the tear escaped and trickled down his cheek. "I love... you."

Victoria was the first to embrace him, followed by his sister and then his brothers wrapped their arms around all of them. Jarrod knew he still had a hard road ahead if he was to regain what he'd lost, but he no longer feared the journey; he knew he would never have to do it alone.


End file.
